Hello to my April fools!
One of the most frequent curveball questions I get in the wild is, “You own a chicken, right?”
Well, I did. (You can read about it here.)
Jirgalicious is no longer with us.
A hawk listened to those darn cows painting billboards along I-85.
So now we’re pouring ‘em out for our girl who is gone too soon.
This week’s post is brought to you by my friend Annie Brannon. She’s the coop founder who convinced me to invest in her tiny farm. And here’s exactly how she did it.
Post by Annie Brannon
In high school, my friends nicknamed me “the convincer.” Somehow, I was always talking them into doing something both fun and slightly risky. The nickname emerged after I managed to talk all of them into staying up the whole night at a sleepover because “we’ll be less tired if we don’t sleep at all.” You can’t make this stuff up.
Like so many post-pandemic, semi-homesteading suburbanites, we got our chickens last March when egg prices were weirdly high. My mom has had chickens for a long time and I’ve always wanted a flock of my own; it didn’t take a lot of eggflation for me to convince myself, my husband, and my neighbors that now was the time.
But the convincing didn’t stop there. I went on to convince all my city-slicker friends to go in on this little farm adventure with me – a $150 investment and months of waiting before they would ever get an egg out of the deal. Luke and his wife Sarah were two of my unsuspecting victims business partners, along with three other friends, and to this day I’m pretty sure they think they got the better end of the deal. Fresh organic eggs and you get to name a chicken? But you don’t have to shovel poop? I’d Venmo ten bucks a month for that, wouldn’t you?
If you’re like me and you’ve got 11 ideas on standby at any given moment but you don’t want to go it alone – here are my two best tips for talking your friends into anything (and some poultry puns, for fun).
Be unflappable
When we decided to get chickens, I had no plans of invading my friends’ wallets to make my own dreams come true. I just had chicken fever. I did hours of research about chicken breeds, coops, and strategies for keeping predators away. I learned that Rhode Island Reds and Golden Comets produce the most eggs per year while still being human-friendly. I learned that most commercially sold coops don’t actually provide enough square footage per chicken. I learned what kind of parasites kill baby chicks and how to do your own “bumble foot” surgery at home. I came into work every day and filled my friends' ears with flock-related facts – whether they liked it or not – because I was genuinely bursting with excitement about what I was about to do.
The best sales pitch is your own sincere obsession with whatever you’re selling. Think Dwight Schrute levels of borderline insane, creepily obsessive, absolutely unstoppable paper salesmanship – vs the endearing but clearly much less interested Jim Halpert. We’d all rather be friends with Jim (well, most of us), but we’d probably buy paper from Dwight.
But obsession alone isn’t enough – work is required. Chickens aren’t easy – they die if they knock their water bowl over on a hot day, they poop everywhere and especially on your doorstep, they attract predators because they’re absolutely helpless in every way. Still, my friends liked the idea of having chickens. But I loved the idea – so much I was willing to shove a massive chicken coop into my minivan with two screaming toddlers in tow. So much I checked baby chicken butts for signs of parasites every day for weeks on end. So much I currently have a chicken at the vet because she “just doesn’t seem like herself.” My enthusiasm coupled with a willingness to work for the dream bridged the gap where their excitement dropped off – and gave the dream the wings it needed to fly.
People flock to what they help create
The number one question my friends asked me when I told them they could be part-owners in the coop?
“Do I get to name my chicken?!”
Honestly, I think if I said no, no one would have joined the flock – crazy as it sounds. And name them, they did… weird names I never would have chosen (Peches? Jirgalicious?!), but that meant something to each chicken owner in turn. Why would anyone care about naming a pet they might never get to meet and who would definitely never come to their name when called?
People love what they help build.
Since my chicken farmer friends couldn’t help raise the chicks or build the coop (and really didn’t want to), I gave them the most fun job: naming and loving the chickens. They even named the coop itself – Cluckingham Palace™ – and loved getting picture updates of their ladies living it up, long before a single egg was laid.
Make no mistake – the old adage definitely applies: if you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go with friends. Inviting friends to name their chickens definitely came with compromises. It meant I had to research shared coop ownership and draw up a contract in case anything flew south. It meant (eventually) packing up weekly egg deliveries to take to the office with me. And it meant I had to figure out how to actually identify chickens even when they were all just little floofs with legs. Harder than it sounds, trust me. (Turns out you can buy tiny, rainbow colored zip ties.)
In the end – I have no regrets. My friends gave me the gift of getting to realize a dream with some of my favorite humans along for the ride. And I gave them the gift of loving a chicken and watching it be brutally killed by a hawk farm fresh eggs and a fun text thread.
Whatever endeavor you’re dreaming of, chances are it’ll be more fun if you take friends along for the ride. Community makes our ideas stronger and our results better – and it spreads joy in a world that sorely needs it. So whip up on your sales pitch and tell your friends they can name your chickens. You’ll be glad you did.
P.S. If you’re on the fence about actually getting chickens – here’s my sales pitch for that specifically: my 3-year-old son hugging one of our favorite chickens, Henrietta – who has since been devoured by a fox. Highs and lows. Prepare for both.
P.P.S. Luke here with my favorite content from the past week, including:
Roman Mars visits Athens, GA
The power of a benediction
The dangers of giving up on friendships
And a memoir I couldn’t put down
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